Taken by Sin, Dante

By Latoya Walcott

Lured and Kidnapped, then taken to the Carpathian Mountains, Dante is turned into a vampire by the Mistress of death, Mariska. After years of her torture, Dante escapes her unrelenting grip. He flees to New York his hometown, where he begins to find solitude. However strange, unexplainable deaths have been happening in the city which gains the interest of Cassie and the secret agency she works with. While going to a crime scene, she is mugged and Dante sees it happening and he stops the criminals with ease then disappears into the night, sparking Cassie's interest. Another situation arises and Dante is forced to choose between keeping his identity a secret or revealing all to Cassie. In the end he saves her life but Cassie faints in the process. With cops close by Dante is forced to take Cassie away from the crime scene to back at his apartment. Once there Dante finds out about the secret agency Cassie works with. As their relationship progresses an old enemy surfaces and threatens the life of Cassie. Dante vows at all cost to protect the only woman he has come to care about.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Latoya Walcott
• Release date: Dec 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005835132

Latoya Walcott

Hello, my name is Latoya Walcott. I’m from the beautiful island of Barbados. I moved to Toronto in 2016. I love reading and writing ,especially romance novels. My favourite authors are Kresley Cole, Connie Mason, and Christine Feehan. I am a chef with a passion for writing paranormal romance novels. I started off writing when I was sixteen years old, and that time it was only a hobby. In 2019 I started my first Novel, Taken By Sin, Dante. I hope all my readers enjoy this book! There will be plenty more to come !

Book preview

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Contents

COPYRIGHT

PREFACE

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Copyright © 2021 Keisha Walcott

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Registration number: 1183779

Cover design by: Milos Jevremonic

Innovation, Science and Economic Development, Canada

Self published in Canada

PREFACE

M

y name

is Keisha Walcott. My love for paranormal romance books has driven me to finally tell my own story. I started writing Taken by Sin, back in 2019. There were many road blocks along the way as I tried to keep up with the pressures of reality. I had writers block countless times as well but I’m happy to say, I overcame!

People have asked many times, why I have chosen this particular genre of books. Vampire romance intrigues me. There is so much adventure, such intense feelings of Love, Lust and Desire.

I hope all who reads enjoys my book and stay tuned for the sequel of this book, Taken by Lust, Mariska.

PROLOGUE

D

ante struggled

against the iron chains binding his hands and feet together. Sweat and blood poured off his naked chest as he struggled to get free. He was so consumed with hunger that he ignored the gaping wounds on his chest. His hunger gnawed at his insides like a terrible itch; the more he scratched the worst it got. He couldn’t afford to lose more blood.

The past few years, Dante had prayed for death every day. She tortured him day after day. She used his body to appease her own twisted lust. He was her prisoner. Everyone referred to her as the Mistress of Death. He hated her more than anything. There were times where he didn’t bother to fight her; there was no use. The more he fought, the more pleasure she gained.

Dante heard the lock lift from the huge iron-clad door. He stopped struggling. Given his enhanced senses, he could recognize her scent anywhere. Mariska reeked of blood, sex, and death. He lifted his dark head to look her in the eye. She was more beautiful each time he saw her. Her waist-length red tresses swayed as she walked. Her violet eyes glittered with hatred. Her blood red lips were turned up at the corners with disdain. The face of an angel; his angel of death.

Mariska was evil. She lured men, captured, and tortured them. When she got bored, she discarded them. Dante was the longest blood slave she’d kept so far, and he sorely wished she would end his misery. He begged for freedom, for he could no longer tolerate the creature he’d become. His cold, blue gaze watched her steadily as she glided toward him.

Mariska stood over him with a wicked smirk. He could not look at her. She was as beautiful as she was evil. Her harsh gaze greedily roamed his naked, muscular body. The wounds she inflicted earlier started to close slowly, but spots of blood continued to drip. He would need to feed for his wounds to completely heal.

Mariska lifted her tiny wrist to her mouth. Her long fangs bit into her flesh. Blood dripped, heightening his hunger. Dante felt the monster inside him stir to life. It demanded he take what she offered.

That evil smile returned to her lips, and she placed her wrist by his mouth. He struggled to pull his head away, but she yanked it forward and held it in place. Her strength was enormous. The smell of her blood overwhelmed his senses as he fought to keep his lips sealed. If he fed, he would live another day — but only to resume his endless cycle of torture.

Mariska’s blood called to him like a siren’s call. His fangs extended in his mouth. Dante felt helpless. He was ravenous, and it would take all his willpower to refuse her blood. His weakened state didn’t help, and a brutal hunger raged inside his stomach. It felt as though someone had torched his insides.

The call to feed was stronger than any sensation in his life; he had no fight in him to resist. Droplets of blood fell onto his lips and pushed him past the brink of his control. Mariska could get him to do whatever she wanted this way. He had never experienced anything as heavenly as her blood. She took pleasure in his resistance, knowing he would always give in. He always did in the end.

His weakness brought shame upon him. Part of him wanted to live to fight another day, so he held on to that hope.

Dante vowed to get his revenge. He drank deeply from her wrist. He took what the bitch offered.

***

Dante lay sullenly on the musty carpet. His foot chains were gone but his hands remained shackled. The chains were surely enforced — even with his vampiric strength he couldn’t break free of them. He thought of ways he could escape this place, and of how to end her. She was too powerful, while he was a mere fledgling vampire. He couldn’t defeat her. Dante had witnessed firsthand the power Mariska harnessed so effortlessly. She used it to enslave and control everyone and everything around her.

Dante thought of how he’d ended up here. His previous life. He never knew his parents. He was raised by an uncle who was a good-for-nothing drunk. Dante knew he was no better than his uncle. What money he had; he spent on women and rum. That fateful night, he’d been in the far end of New York City, at a popular club in downtown Manhattan. There, he spotted her. She stood out amongst the crowd of people, a fascinating beauty. She instantly captured his eye. It didn’t take long for him to approach her. Women shot curious glances her way and men ogled her greedily.

She stared only at Dante. When he approached her, he inhaled her scent. She smelled wickedly exotic, and he immediately wanted a taste. She seduced him with her voice; it sounded like a sweet melody designed for his ears. She didn’t sound American. No, her charmingly sweet accent sounded Russian or Romanian — something along those lines.

Dante drank and danced with the seductress the entire night. Later, they left together. He would have followed her anywhere. Dante remembered being in that dark alley with her behind him. One moment he was safe and lusting after her. Then he wasn’t.

He never saw the attack coming. All he remembered was everything going black.

He awoke trapped in this darkened room with no windows, just a tightly sealed door. His lungs burned like hellfire. His throat stung, and swallowing his own spit hurt. Everything ached. He had no idea what was happening until it was too late. He curled into a ball in one corner of his dungeon, feeling a strange change overtake his body. He convulsed savagely; the pain was unbearable. Am I being punished for my sins? he’d thought.

But then he saw her. She towered over him with an unreadable expression on her face. He thought maybe she’d come to rescue him. She slowly offered out her hand.

He took it and sealed his own fate.

CHAPTER ONE

Manhattan 2010

T

he wind

howled and pulled at the edges of Dante’s leather trench coat. The moon hid behind a canopy of clouds in a starless sky. The night’s air was cold on his face but refreshing. Dante enjoyed this view atop one of Manhattan’s high-rise buildings. He could see the Freedom Tower in the near distance standing 1780 feet tall. New York City was one of the busiest cities he’d seen so far. Even at this time of the night, in the dead of winter, people scurried about seeking means of entertainment. Restaurants and nightlife remained open till morning. Traffic was heavy down in the streets.

Dante’s icy blue gaze analyzed the streets below. He searched for his prey carefully. He needed sustenance — blood to survive — and there was a vast amount in the city. He hadn’t chosen this life of being undead, and his lack of friends or family made his existence a lonely one. Since his return to the city five years ago, he mostly stayed hidden and kept to himself. He avoided contact with people unless it was to feed. Dante knew what most humans were obsessed with without having to use his telepathy. They dreamed of money. Power. Sex.

The hunger that he set aside earlier came rushing back with a force he could not control. Dante leapt fourteen stories down to the streets. He silently blended in with the humans. He did what he had to survive — hunted.

After Dante fed, he stayed mostly in the shadows of backlit alleys. He passed a deserted park and paused when he heard a scream pierce the silent night. It had come from a dark alleyway ahead of the park. Pros of being a vampire: he could hear from a far distance and see into the darkness.

It sounded like a woman was in trouble. He was no hero, and his first instinct was to mind his business. Just continue on, Dante, he told himself. He contemplated whether or not he should go to the woman’s aid. He could not risk being exposed to her assailant.

Dante recalled a time when he’d needed help and no one had come to his aid. What was left of his humanity spoke to him. He hoped his decision wouldn’t be one he’d come to regret. He followed the screams through the park. He moved fast and arrived at a dark alleyway in between two rundown apartments.

He saw the woman’s attackers. One pointed a knife at her chest while the other cornered her from behind. They yelled at her to hand over her purse and whatever other belongings she had. A deep frown marred Dante’s face. He knew what the men’s intentions were. They planned to take her stuff, rape her, and slit her throat. He knew how cruel and heartless mankind could be. It was why he stayed away from humans. Dante stayed hidden, watching the scene before he made a move.

The woman didn’t hand over her stuff. These men were not fooling around, and she was stupid to think she could fend off two men alone. He shook his head and moved out of the shadows to face the two attackers. His voice held a hint of danger as he spoke.

Leave her alone, he warned. The two men looked dumbstruck. They turned away from their victim and faced Dante with confused expressions. The one closest to Dante wore a red cap pulled low over his forehead. He was solidly built and holding the knife. The other one was weaponless, but clearly dangerous. He wore no disguise. Clearly the men didn’t care about concealing their identities.

They glanced between one another then back at him. Red cap burst out laughing, and the other one cautiously stepped toward Dante. They had no idea who they were dealing with.

I suggest you mind your business. This doesn’t concern you. He spat, then lunged forward with his knife. Dante’s blue eyes turned icy enough to make the man pause briefly. Dante realized the only way to stop these fools was through combat. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. It was a long time since he’d been in a fight. He balled his fists and welcomed the opportunity.

The one with the knife charged at Dante, but he easily sidestepped the attack. He spun around on his heel and grabbed the man’s arm with brutal force. Dante twisted the man’s brawny arm with just the right amount of pressure. It caused him to drop the knife, which landed between them. The other man’s eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t hesitate to attack. He rushed forward, blindly throwing punches, which Dante easily evaded. Dante used only a fraction of his of strength and backhanded the man. He flew a few feet away and landed hard against the old building. Small blocks of concrete gave way from the force of the blow. It rendered him unconscious.

The other man looked down at his friend in disbelief. He hesitated before attacking again. He gave a frustrated yell then rushed forward and swung at Dante. He missed horribly. Scumbags like these two never learn, Dante thought. I ought to teach them a real lesson. He grabbed the man’s meaty arm and snapped it like a twig, shattering bone. The man howled in pain. He crumpled to the ground clutching at his broken arm. His eyes were filled with fear. He scrambled back close to the wall with his still unconscious friend . He glanced between Dante and his friend with fear and uncertainty, as if contemplating to leave his friend or not. In the end, he sprinted away into the dark night, as if the devil himself was chasing after him.

Cassie Robinson had watched the entire scene unfold. The stranger fought the two men with incredible strength and speed, easily reducing them to nothing. There wasn’t anyone else there to witness the fight. She didn’t feel sorry for the men. God knows what they would have done aside from robbing her.

The man who had just rescued her turned around to face her. He work all black. His startling blue gaze met hers, but he said nothing, instead just glaring at her. Cassie watched the stranger; she took one look at his cold face and lost her voice. This man did not look friendly. Not one bit. In fact, he looked more dangerous than those two thieves he’d just beaten the crap out of. Power emitted off him in waves. There was an undeniable, mysterious aura to him.

He was tall — over six feet with ease — and built like a linebacker. His dark clothes clung to his muscular chest and arms. She had to shift her head to get a better look at him. Before she could, he silently turned away. He just saved her life — the least she could do was thank him. Her feet dragged her in the stranger’s direction.

Wait! she called, rushing toward him. She followed him out of the alleyway and further into the light from a nearby streetlight. He didn’t stop, and she knew that he heard her. Instead, he continued to walk as if he had not heard her. Cassie ran to try and match his long strides, but at the same time, he turned abruptly. She ran directly into his broad chest.

It felt as though she’d walked into a solid brick wall. His arm shot out to steady her, and as he did she finally caught sight of his face. She gasped and her breath quickened. He was breathtakingly handsome. His hair was blacker than the night — faded on the sides and longer on top — and fell perfectly over his forehead. His nose was long and straight, and he had high cheek bones for a man. His eyes … Oh God, those eyes, Cassie thought. Thick dark lashes opened to startling blue eyes. Eyes full of fire and ice, staring straight back at her. His mouth was set in a cruel line, with his bottom lip thicker than the top.

When his arm steadied her, warmth shot through her, radiating her core. Her mind screamed at her to put some distance between them, but she couldn’t move. She breathed in his scent. Lord, does he smell good, she thought. Her cheeks turned champagne rosy. He smelled like pine; crisp and refreshing.

***

Dante stared down at her, realizing he’d not yet let go. He quickly released her as if burnt and stepped back. He was taller than most men, but she was only a few inches shorter. I should leave her now, he thought. Instead, his gaze deepened. He pried into her mind and easily read her thoughts.

His findings amused him. Most women, upon seeing him, would lust hungrily for his body. Some even batted their lashes at him. Unfortunately, he had no use for a female other than to feed.

Oddly, he found her scent slightly intoxicating. He cocked his head to one side and studied her. For the first time, he took in her full appearance. She had a thick long braid, which looked reddish-brown under the streetlight glare. Her face was heart shaped; long lashes fanned her cheeks. Her eyes were grey and wide. His gaze moved to her lips. She had full, luscious lips. He could hear her heartbeat pounding against her chest, like a drum playing into the night. Was it fear?

She wore a heavy coat tightly around her, and jeans underneath. Her boots were black and knee-high. The coat was zipped at her nape, revealing a grey cotton sweater underneath. His gaze shifted to her long, creamy white throat. He hated the paths his thoughts took. He heard her clearing her throat, which jolted him back to reality.

I just wanted to say thank you for saving me. She smiled hesitantly, her straight white teeth flashing. That was no American accent — was she British?

He didn’t stay long enough to find out. He nodded briefly and turned away. He disappeared down the streets with long strides, knowing that she stared after him.

***

Cassie watched him disappear into the night. She zipped her jacket all the way up to cover her throat, as the cold air had begun piercing her skin. In her haste to leave her rented condo, she’d forgotten her scarf.

She glanced back at the alley quickly and thought about calling the cops. But if she did, they would ask questions, like how she’d been able to beat up two thugs. Then she would have to tell them about the stranger she’d met, the man who was possibly a ninja. She chuckled at that.

The cops would think her story was crazy. What’s more, they would think she was crazy for being out here at this hour of the night. East Manhattan wasn’t exactly safe this time of night.

Those two scumbags did not deserve to be free; they deserved to be behind bars. Surely they would learn their